Boys don't cry
by cein
Summary: Post Twilight. Everybody grieves in their own way. Slash.


Title:Boys don't cry Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash) slash Pairing/Characters: Gibbs/Tony Rating: FRT 13 Summary: Post fic to Twilight. Everybody grieves in their own way.  
Warnings: might need tissues Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.  
Notes - this has no connection plot wise or anything with the movie of the same name.

Boys don't cry Gibbs POV

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"Boys don't cry." My father told me this when I was a child. It may have sounded harsh, but it was said out of love. My father wanted me to grow up tough and strong and able to take care of myself. And while he may have wanted me to stand on my own two feet, I knew that as long as he was around, that there'd always be somebody there to support me if I needed it. 

Tony's father said the same thing to him, but whereas my father had said it out of love, with Mr. DiNozzo it was more a case of indifference. People may laugh at the idea of a 'poor little rich kid', but it's no joke. Tony certainly never lacked for anything physically...but emotionally was a different story. He doesn't like to talk about it much, and when the subject comes up, he'll usually turn it into a joke. But I know how starved of affection and attention he was as a child. 

I guess it's only natural that he craves it so much now. All the things he does and says, the jokes the teasing, all of it is him really screaming out for attention. The women he used to sleep with, it wasn't so much a case of rampant hormones, as simply him wanting to spend as little time alone as possible. I've said before that he does his best work without an audience, and it's true. Put DiNozzo in a room with himself and he'll try to have a conversation with the mirror. But leave him alone to do some work and without anybody to pay attention to him, and he'll focus all that concentration on that task. 

It took me a long time to see this attention seeking for what it was. Originally I was ready to dismiss him as just another over eager, over sexed, cop with attitude. But that's just a persona he pulls on as easy and as comfortable as a well-worn pair of jeans. He uses it as shield because he's afraid that if anybody sees the real him that they won't like it as much as the 'fun guy who doesn't take anything seriously'.

I'm about the only person that sees the real Tony. The insecure, almost shy Anthony DiNozzo, who spent so much time being ignored growing up that he laps up any little bit of attention from anybody. I keep telling him that he's a wonderful person and that people do like him. I tell him over and over again that I love him, but even all my reassurances just can't completely wipe out the years of emotional neglect that he went through as a child.

And even as an adult, his father still ignores him. I understand fully why he didn't want to give Tony any financial support, that's his call. But the lack of emotional support for his own flesh and blood is something that I can't understand. I know that my own father didn't approve of a lot of the choices I made in my life. From the length of my hair in High School, to my first wife. But I always had his love and support and he made sure I knew that, even as he was smacking me on the back of the head and telling me to get my damned hair cut before I looked like a girl.

But Tony's father...I feel like spitting whenever I think of the man. When his son - his only child - lay in hospital after nearly dying from that Y Pestis thing, Mr. DiNozzo was far too busy to come and visit him. The bastard couldn't even be bothered to pick up the phone to see how his boy was doing. I admit I was surprised when I walked into Tony's hospital room a few days after the crisis had passed and saw a bunch of flowers from Mr. DiNozzo. I was less surprised when I saw that there was a business card attached instead of the usual greetings card. Tony had made a joke about it, saying that it was clear that he'd had his P.A. send the flowers, because at least she'd spelt his name right, but I knew him well enough to know how upset he was. I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him to have a good cry, but I knew he wouldn't. His father's words had more power over him than he'd ever let on and I knew that Tony wouldn't allow himself the release of tears. Not in front of other people...sometimes not even in front of me.

He didn't cry at Kate's funeral either. He sat there with the rest of the N.C.I.S. agents. Head held high, as if he hadn't had her blood spattered over his face only a week earlier. He nearly scrubbed his face raw that night, trying to get all the blood off. He's washed his face twice or three times a day since then and I know that in his minds eye he can still see the blood there. I know that I should make him attend the sessions with the in house shrink. But if I'm being honest with myself, I can't stand the thought that Tony will tell him things that he feels he can't say to me. So I haven't pushed him, because I want him to talk to me. I want him to let me know how he's feeling, how he's shattered inside because of Kate's death. Or maybe I just want him to know that I feel the same way too.

He was supposed to have seen the shrink before his first day back at work, but he came to work early...too early. I had wanted him to stay at home another week; I knew he wasn't ready either physically or emotionally. But I also knew how much Tony hated being stuck at home to recuperate. Most people would be glad of the chance to relax and put their feet up on company time, but Tony - for all his efforts to appear an idle layabout - just couldn't stay put. I know it was the companionship that he'd missed. I would have loved to have stayed at home with him, keeping him company through his recovery, but I had to work. I'd taken a few vacation days to make sure he wasn't alone the first few days out of hospital but I couldn't stay with him full time. And so Tony insisted that he was fit enough to go to work, even if he seemed barely able to stand.

If I'd known what he was going to have to face I'd have tied him to the bed to keep him at home. Nobody should have had to see what we had...nobody should have had to watch as our colleague...our friend had gotten her brains blown out right in front of us. 

That night I took him home with me; I wanted to hold him to comfort him, to share our strength for the days ahead. But when I reached out for him that night, he shied away from my touch. We hardly spoke two words to each other outside of the office during that week. 

I knew that Tony was trying to hold himself together. I knew that he felt that if he let his guard down for a second, even with me, that he'd lose it totally. I knew that he felt he owed it to Kate to put a brave face on him for her funeral, that the least he could do was to be strong until then. How did I know? Because I was feeling the exact same way. I couldn't even relieve my pain by directing it at Ari, because Morrow had taken us off the case. He hadn't threatened me with suspension or anything - he knew better than to try - but he had simply had all the case files on Ari transferred away from me by the time I reached the office the next day. It was made clear to me that whoever was going to track down Ari; it wouldn't be me and my team. 

I let it go...at least for the time being. Once the funeral was over, I was going to fight for the right to track down Ari. I deserved it, and I owed it to Kate. But I also owed her the respect of attending her funeral without having my mind on catching the bastard who'd put her in the coffin that was standing at the front of the church. So for today, I would focus on getting through the funeral...on getting Tony and myself through the funeral, and tomorrow would take care of itself. 

I sat next to Tony and wanted to hold his hand, to put my arm around his shoulder, to let him draw on my strength as we listened to a Priest who had never even met Kate try to tell us what a good person she was. We didn't need him to say anything, we already knew. I wanted to wrap my arms around Tony and let him cry on my shoulder as we watched the coffin be loaded into the hearse and Kate was taken out of our lives forever. But it wasn't the time or the place and Tony was so fragile emotionally that I knew a single touch of my hand could put him over the edge. 

And so I waited until the funeral was over and the coffin had been taken to the airport to be shipped home to the Todd family burial plot. I waited until we'd been fed and watered and offered our condolences to Kate's parents and siblings. 

And then I took Tony home with me and he didn't say a word as we drove through the streets. He was looking out the window, as desolate as I've ever seen him. I couldn't stand it any more so I pulled into the side and switched off the engine. Then I undid our seatbelts and reached out for him as I'd longed to reach out to him all day. 

He resisted at first but finally allowed me to hug him and let his head fall onto my shoulder. "Let it out, Tony," I told him gently. "You don't have to be strong anymore, let it all out. It's over"  
It started slowly, just a little sob here and there, and then his shoulders were shaking and his whole body was trembling under my grip as I held him tightly, rubbing his back and whispering softly. "It's okay, it'll be okay"  
We stayed there like that until the storm had passed, and Tony lay exhausted in my arms. And I knew that now he'd finally let go that he'd be able to move on with his life, that we'd be able to move on together. Because he hadn't been the only one crying just then. And I wasn't ashamed of my tears; I shed them for Kate, a colleague and a friend. I shed the tears I hadn't shed when I'd watched Tony fighting for his life. I shed the tears I hadn't been able to shed while on the rooftop looking at her body. 

You see, my father told me that there was a time and a place for everything, and that while boys don't cry...men do.

The End 


End file.
